one and two and three and
by callmesandy
Summary: Set post s3 Elementary and in a new timeline after the Fringe series finale, a series of murders has Joan Watson being called in on what turns out to be a very frustrating case.


Notes: For kerithwyn. No profit garnered, not mine. I assume the events of the Fringe series finale rewrote more than just that one day so why not have the lack of Observers' interference mean that Sherlock Holmes was no longer fictional? And that Charlie lived and Red!Lincoln did as well? Thanks to A for the beta help.

xxxxxx

"Everything has happened three times," the boy on the stoop intoned. He sounded stoned, and as Joan walked by, the smell told her he was stoned. The boy looked at her. He said, "And Lady, you were not here the first two times."

Joan hurried on. She had three surgeries scheduled that day.

x

"Man oh man, I remember this day three times. And you're only here the last time," Joan's client said.

"What did you smoke, Terence," she said calmly. She remembered the boy on the stoop.

Terence stared off into space. "You know what sucks? Every time I remember, three times, I am always relapsing."

x

Joan read the lips of the man talking to Captain Gregson. She walked over to them. "I'm sorry to interrupt, we're you just talking about someone saying they had lived three times?"

Captain Gregson said, "Joan Watson, meet an old friend of mine, Charlie Francis. Charlie defected to the FBI. Joan here is a consultant, very good detective."

"Nice to meet you," Agent Francis said. Agent Francis had turned from casual to suspicious. "Yes, I was telling Gregson about how I ran into someone -"

"A drug dealer?" Joan said.

"Heavy drug user," Agent Francis said.

"I asked because the two times I've heard that, I remember three times, everything has happened three times, they were both stoned," she said.

"I've heard it a few times," Agent Francis said.

"We all have," Captain Gregson said. "There's a dealer out there who makes a batch of pot mixed with some hallucinogen."

Joan said, "That creates this very specific delusion?"

Agent Francis looked at her. "Maybe it's not a delusion."

Gregson smiled at Joan. He said, "Is that an official FBI position?"

Agent Francis laughed and Joan felt like she had been added to a list. It was probably some of Sherlock's paranoia and conspiracy theorizing affecting her.

The next morning, she got a phone call from the FBI. "This is Joan Watson, consulting detective? I'm Olivia Dunham, FBI. I'd like to bring you in on a case."

Joan said, "Bring me in?"

"Sorry, let me be clear. I want you to consult." Then Agent Dunham said, "I would ask you to come to my office but unfortunately, the floor is being renovated."

Joan said, "Renovated."

Agent Dunham said, "I've been working from home. Let me give you the address."

Agent Dunham's home was significantly nicer than Joan thought an honest FBI agent could afford, but she was also clearly married, with at least one child, judging from the tiny yard and what Joan could see in the windows. She went up to knock but as she expected, the agent opened the door before she could. "Come in," Agent Dunham said.

Joan sat down on the couch where Agent Dunham had steered her. It was clearly more living room than any kind of home office. Joan could see some kind of office down the hall, but it was almost surely the husband's. Joan said, "You wanted me to consult on something. It's not because I discussed shared delusions with an FBI agent you worked with."

"It's not a shared delusion," Agent Dunham said. "A very specific strain of marijuana treated with a very specific hallucinogen. With certain people it causes a very specific hallucination. I know that sounds impossible, but it's true. And yes, Charlie told me he'd talked to you. But it only reminded me you were on my list to call."

Joan waited. Agent Dunham smiled and said, "So." She opened a file that was on the coffee table and started taking pictures out. "In 1995, your -" she paused. She said, "Biological father? Please tell me which title you prefer." Agent Dunham pointed to one of the pictures. "In 1995, he was remanded to St. Claire's, an institution for the mentally ill and criminal. He was there for two years. Did you know that?"

Joan shook her head. She said, "Biological father is fine. And no, I had no idea. I didn't even know he was in Massachusetts." Joan glanced at the other photos in the file and scanned the reports. She said, "I take it your father-in-law was there at the same time?"

Agent Dunham grinned. "You are good, Captain Gregson wasn't kidding. Yes, my father-in-law was there at that time."

"And now you and your husband are convinced he's dead," Joan said.

"Yes," Agent Dunham said, not smiling anymore. "He disappeared 10 weeks ago. How can you tell?"

"The same way I can tell your husband was estranged from his father when the two of you were married. The arrangement of the photos in here for one. Things have been moved to be more prominent, some photos are newly added. There's only the two of you in that set from your wedding, surely if you had a picture of him from the event, it would also be front and center. And I saw his picture here in the file," Joan said, pulling one labeled Walter Bishop from the stack.

Agent Dunham looked over at the three photos in the frame that Joan had deduced were from her wedding. "How can you be sure those are wedding pictures? You're right, but I don't know I would have picked that out."

"You're both showing off your wedding bands," Joan said. "That was six years ago?"

"Yes," Agent Dunham said. "Yes to all of it. We got married in 2009, Walter was in St. Claire's at the same time as your biological father, and Peter was estranged from his father when we got married. To put it mildly."

Joan had scanned the file now. "Did you want me to consult on this case? It looks like murder."

"It is murder," Agent Dunham said. "In the last 8 weeks, 14 former residents of St. Claire's, all living on the street, have been tortured and murdered. And all of them were there in those two years, 1995 and 1996."

Joan flipped to the list of identified victims. Agent Dunham said, "None of them are your father. We haven't found him yet and we don't think he's a suspect."

"We," Joan said.

"We, the FBI, my division. The murders have been in Boston and New York so it's an FBI case. But we've talked to NYPD, and Boston PD, and honestly, I'd talk to anyone to get to the bottom of this before anyone else is hurt."

"But you're not going to tell me why you're convinced Dr. Bishop is dead."

Agent Dunham said, "It's classified. But I'm right. Walter isn't doing this, though he might be part of the reason it's happening. I don't know. I would like to give you the file. We can meet tomorrow or the day after and get started on the case, if that works for you." Agent Dunham smiled again. "And we will pay you, so feel free to charge something exorbitant rates."

"You're telling me to overcharge the government?"

"I'm telling you to charge what you are clearly worth," Agent Dunham said. "I'm sorry to usher you out, but if you are interested, please take the file."

"I am," Joan said, taking the file.

Joan read over the file, spread it out and pinned pictures to the corkboard. She called Bell to see what files NYPD had which he promised to send over. She watched Clyde eat while she organized her thoughts.

She started googling Agent Dunham and her classified father-in-law, turning up not very much. She suspected some things had been scrubbed from the easy to find corners of the web. She could not stop thinking that she had heard of Olivia Dunham and Walter Bishop before now.

She looked at Clyde and said, "I'm sure Sherlock would know." And then she remembered. Her partner, the conspiracy skeptic, had on more than one occasion talked about various theories he thought had a tiny shred of truth to them. Fringe Division, Joan thought. Maybe she would tell Sherlock, later.

She skimmed the boards Sherlock had frequented. She decided a trip to see the Statue of Liberty was in order for the next morning.

She was in Battery Park, contemplating what she would accomplish if she boarded the ferry when she noticed him. She marched over, already angry. "Are you following me? Did your wife put some sort of tracker on me yesterday?"

He said, "I'm sorry, it's actually worse than that. Also, hi, I'm Peter Bishop."

"Yes, I figured that out," Joan said. "What do you mean, worse than that?"

"It was the cameras," Bishop said. He pointed at some of the security cameras. "We do screening of the park and the other ferry point."

"You screened for me," Joan said.

He looked like he felt bad about it but that was hardly going to make her feel better. "We screen for a lot of people. On the other hand, I did come out here to answer your questions which we usually don't do."

"Awesome," Joan said, contempt in her voice.

He shrugged. "What are your questions?"

"Is there really some sort of secret base under the Statue of Liberty?"

He nodded. "Yup." He was most likely not lying.

"Really?"

"Really. Since February 2010," he said. He fiddled with his wedding ring, his only visible fidget.

"The government has a secret base for aliens under the Statue of Liberty?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"It's not exactly for aliens and the government didn't build it."

"Not exactly? You know, this is ridiculous," Joan said.

"It is absolutely ridiculous," he said. "Look, you're a very smart person. I know how it sounds, and I've had to give this speech to a lot of people. But you are also a very smart person, and I'm sure you've seen things that don't fit into an ordinary explanation."

"I don't believe in aliens," Joan said.

"I said technically," Bishop said. "I'm sure you've heard people theorizing about parallel universes and deja vu, right?"

"There's a secret base with a bridge to a parallel universe under the Statue of Liberty," Joan said.

Bishop nodded. "I know. But there really is."

Joan couldn't think of a reply. She finally said, "You're not going to tell me not to repeat it or anything?"

"Well, it sounds like you only believe me a little bit," he said, with a slight smile.

"I barely believe you," she said.

"I just don't want all of this," he said, gesturing back towards the Statue of Liberty, "to interfere with an investigation I am almost positive has nothing to do with all of this."

"What did you mean when you said 'we' earlier?"

He grimaced. "Technically, I own 66% of most of the cameras."

"You own Massive Dynamic," Joan said. "How do you keep that secret?"

"My father inherited William Bell's personal stock in the company when Bell died, I've been my father's legal guardian, conservator, whatever, since 2008 and technically I still am," he said, looking distinctly unenthused. "Like Britney Spears's father. And we kept it secret because Walter already had more than enough weird attention."

"But you don't think any of that has to do with all the people being murdered who were in St. Claire's with your father?"

He shrugged. "It might. But not the part here at Liberty Island. I don't think anyone came over from the other side and started killing these people, or someone who's been over there."

"Over there," Joan said. "That sounds nuts."

"As I keep saying, I know."

She went home still caught somewhere between fury and disbelief. She wished she could hash it out with Sherlock but that wasn't possible right now. That thought made her sad.

Bell sent over files and Joan did her own searches. By the end of the day she had narrowed down a list of potential victims, including her own biological father, and possible suspects. She went out to visit people she knew from her own volunteering.

She called Agent Dunham at 9 pm, apologizing for the late call. "It's fine," Agent Dunham.

"I found someone who may have witnessed one of the attacks. We can meet with him tomorrow morning," Joan said. She gave Agent Dunham the location.

"I can pick you up," Agent Dunham said. "I have to warn you. I will have a guest tomorrow. Sort of. It's an exchange program. He's a decent enough investigator," she said with a sigh.

"You're doing a ridealong?"

"He works for the same division I do except on the other side," Agent Dunham said.

"You're doing a ridealong with someone from another universe," Joan said. This case was ridiculous.

"I know," Agent Dunham said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The ridealong was a pleasant looking white man. He said, "Call me Lincoln."

"Okay," Joan said.

He said, "Olivia told me you're an amazing investigator. Can you do your thing on me? Was I estranged from my father when I got married?"

Olivia looked less than pleased at Lincoln's words. Though Joan suspected that wary irritation was Olivia's general reaction to the man. Joan said, "How can I be sure the deductions I make won't be horribly off given that you're from another universe?"

Joan could see Lincoln smiling. He said, "That sounds like a challenge. You should see. Come on, try me."

Joan sighed. "Okay, I would suspect you were raised in a family of influence."

"True," Lincoln said. "My father was a judge, close friends with the Secretary."

Joan said, "Secretary of what?"

"The Secretary of Defense, on the other side," Olivia said. Olivia appeared to loathe the Secretary, whomever he was.

"You were raised in New Jersey, near New York City," Joan said.

"Again, very true. Accents are somewhat similar to here, I guess," Lincoln said. "Come on, dazzle me with a tough one."

"Because that's how this works," Joan said, nearly rolling her eyes. She said, "Your predominant romantic and sexual attraction is towards men."

"That is dazzling," he said. "Exactly right. Can you teach me how to do that?"

"It's not a trick," Joan said.

"I'm a fast learner," Lincoln said.

"You won't be here long enough," Olivia said.

Lincoln cleared his throat. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Once they got to the location, all three of them got out of the car. Olivia hung back. "I've been told I look like a cop," she said.

Joan nodded with a smile. She and Lincoln walked to the corner where they were meeting Doak. "Do you do a lot of ridealongs?"

Lincoln smiled. "This is only the third, actually. Last two times I got Charlie which was, frankly, more fun."

"I thought," Joan said. "I was told the bridge has been there for five years, right?"

"Yes," Lincoln said. "But the bridge came before anyone was really ready for it. So there was a lot of pretend detente, and also scheming, and some very dumb-headed moves, and it's really only in the last two years things have been at a point where people would accept this kind of thing. The idea is by learning from each other we trust each other and build a bridge in our hearts." Lincoln's voice turned sarcastic at that last part.

"You don't think it's working," Joan said.

"It's working fine," Lincoln said.

"And here's Doak," Joan said.

Doak regarded Lincoln suspiciously but turned back to Joan. She had already handed over the two cups of coffee Doak had requested. She asked her questions, Lincoln threw in one or two that were helpful. The two of them walked back to Olivia and her SUV.

"Yes, baby," Olivia was saying. "I like that book the best, too." She looked up and saw them. "Okay, I have to go. Love you." Olivia said, "What did we learn?"

Joan said, "Doak saw someone dragging the man he believes to be Barry Pressant away."

"He called him BP," Lincoln said.

"The person dragging BP away was short, dressed in layers, possibly a woman, possibly a man, probably under 30," Joan said.

Olivia started fiddling with her phone. "Do you have any more details? When did this happen?"

"Sadly, Doak is color blind. Literally. So we don't have more than that."

Olivia said, "And you trust him?"

"He seemed lucid," Lincoln said confidently.

Olivia stared at him for a moment and then said, "Okay. Let's go to my place for the next part."

When they were all in the car, Joan stated the obvious. "The suspect is under 30, so it's none of the people who were at St. Claire's. So all we have now is a list of potential victims, 10 of whom we can't even locate."

"We're working on that," Olivia said.

"Putting Peter's company to good use," Lincoln said, still smiling.

"What does that mean," Joan said.

"Massive Dynamic has access to lot of surveillance. Public and private," Olivia said.

"That's incredibly disturbing," Joan said. "They can just, what, start looking through all their cameras and use facial recognition and find anyone?"

"It doesn't bother me," Lincoln said. "We have even more surveillance on the other side."

Joan said, "And it's all controlled by one private company?"

"No, it's all controlled by the government, to protect everyone," Lincoln said.

"Their side has experienced a lot more random disasters," Olivia said.

"Either way, people's privacy should matter. We shouldn't be able to just call someone and get all the cameras in town to bend to our will," Joan said.

"Why does it upset you so much?" Lincoln said.

"Why doesn't it upset you? What kind of world doesn't frown on your poly relationship but is totally fine with their every move being cataloged?"

Olivia looked shocked and Lincoln grinned. "You are really good," he said. "And the kind of world is the one I live in. I'm interested in solving these murders."

"I am, too," Joan said. "But I'm very uncomfortable with the kind of arrangement that banks on all of us trusting Massive Dynamic to do the right thing and only use the power for good."

Olivia said, "You know who else makes this argument all the time? Peter."

"Who is still compiling all this information for you," Joan said.

"Yes, basically," Olivia said.

Lincoln said, "Why is someone under 30 killing all these people?"

"A visitor," Olivia said.

"Which, given that St. Claire's was for criminals, means family only so we're looking for a young visitor. Probably someone's child," Joan said.

"Which is the kind of digging up of records and sorting of data that is quickly accomplished by powerful super computers like they have at Massive Dynamic," Lincoln said.

Joan sighed. "I'm so glad to know a multinational corporation has all that data at their fingertips. But they're only using it for good, right?"

"Now that Peter is in charge, yes," Olivia said. "It was different before him."

Joan said, "So is that supposed to be reassuring or not?"

"I don't find it very reassuring at all," Olivia said. "But I have the opportunity to solve a crime, to solve many of them, and I know Peter, unlike his predecessors, is very careful about who he lets use the information, so for now, yes. By the time we get back to the house, we should have some more leads to go on."

They were all three quiet until they reached Olivia's house. Once they got inside, Olivia took out a tablet and started reading files. She said, "We now have one suspect. Keith Bradleyn, born in 1985, father and mother were in 's in 1995 and 1996. Bradleyn has himself been in and out of institutions."

Joan skimmed the records on Olivia's tablet, reading over Olivia's shoulder. "He sounds like a viable suspect," Joan said. "Delusional thinking, excellent memory. Is he just wandering the streets looking for people he recognizes after 20 years, or does he have access to Massive Dynamic's records, too?"

"Massive Dynamic isn't the only source of information in the world, right?" Lincoln smirked a little.

"Actually," Joan said. "Since the records indicate Bradleyn lives on the street as well, it may be a case of simply recognizing his prey."

Lincoln said, "So how do we find him?"

Olivia said, "Peter's found a few of the potential victims here in New York and he says the most recent sighting of Keith Bradleyn is two days ago, near where we met Doak." She looked at Joan and added, "We haven't been able to find your biological father."

Lincoln said, "He's sure it's Bradleyn?"

Olivia looked down at her phone. "85% sure."

"He seems to attack every few days," Lincoln said. "Maybe we can cover the potential victims?"

"People who live on the street would recognize cops and agents," Joan said. "Especially someone like Bradleyn."

"We can't flood the streets with agents, but the three of us might be able to slip by," Olivia said.

With the help of Big Brother Massive Dynamic, they chose two locations that seemed the most likely for Bradleyn to strike. Both areas were frequented by some of the men Bradleyn was targeting. Olivia and her partner, Charlie, would take the first spot. Joan and Lincoln got the second.

"Of course, we have no authority to do anything if we see him," Joan said.

"You hit him with your stick, I'll call the real cops," Lincoln said. "This side's Charlie and Liv reek of cop, though. So, do we just sit here, or should we move?"

"We're fine," Joan said. "You don't do a lot of surveillance on your side, I guess."

"That is not the kind of policing we generally do, you are correct," Lincoln said.

"What kind do you do?"

"We used to investigate odd crimes and phenomena, now we investigate odd crimes and clean up phenomena," he said. "Do you have clearance for me to tell you?"

"Probably not," Joan said. "Do you think Bradleyn's motive will be classified when we catch him?"

"Probably," Lincoln said, smirking.

Two hours later, Joan spotted someone who could be Bradleyn walking around the corner, squinting and staring at each person he passed. "Lincoln," she said, quietly.

"Gotcha," he said. Lincoln got out of the car so quietly Joan was surprised to see he was outside.

The person turned and saw Lincoln, started screaming. "You are not supposed to be here. You are not supposed to be here. I want to go back to the first time, take me back to the first time." Bradleyn lunged at Lincoln, and they were both on the ground, wrestling for dominance.

Joan took out her single stick and hit Bradleyn twice, once on the back of the head, once on his shoulder blade. The man cried out and Lincoln flipped him over. "Thanks," Lincoln said. He put some sort of space age restraint on the man's hands.

Joan called Olivia.

She went by Olivia's house the next day, in the afternoon. Peter answered the door, with a three year old blonde girl sucking her thumb perched on his hip. "Ms. Watson, we meet again."

Joan smiled and found herself again on the Agent's couch. Peter walked to the back, and left the two women alone. Joan said, "You told me the whole three times thing was about drugs and hallucinations. I don't think that was the case for that man we arrested last night."

"Who confessed, by the way. And yes, there are other instances where some people have this vision of life having happened three times. In Bradleyn's case, he preferred the way his life was the first time. He thought that the first time, when both his parents died in St. Claire's was the life he could get back to," Olivia said, clearly choosing her words carefully.

"The first time?"

"First timeline," Peter said, walking in without the toddler. "You're just going to be mad when I say it, but it seems likely that due to time travel, this timeline we're in now is a rewrite of a previous one."

"Again, that is ridiculous," Joan said.

"I know," Peter said.

Joan nearly threw up her hands in frustration, but she decided to just leave. She put her bill on the table.

She found herself standing in the driveway after she left the house. Peter walked up and stood across from her. She said, "Your company can find anyone?"

He shrugged. "Not everyone, not every place."

Joan took a picture out of her purse and handed it over. "Her name is Kitty. I'm sure she's changed it. I just want to know she's okay. I don't want to know where she is, but I want to know she's okay."

"Will do," Peter said and walked back inside. Joan would have something to tell Sherlock when she could tell things to Sherlock.


End file.
